I Hate to Love You
by DrarryLover28
Summary: Our relationship is complicated. One minute I want to shag you senseless into the carpet or bed or whatever surface we happened to find. The next, I want to strangle you and rip your heart out. What have our boys gotten into now? Based on "I Hate Everything About You" by Three Days Grace. Thanks to Futaira for the song suggestion! Enjoy! :)


**Disclaimer:** I do not, nor have ever own/owned the rights to the Harry Potter Universe. Everything belongs to the marvelous J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** This story is based primarily on "I Hate Everything About You" by Three Days Grace. I know it's dark, but sometimes the boys just take over, and I can't stop them…Anyway, a big thank you to **Futaira** for the song suggestion! Warning: this is a MALExMALE relationship. If you do not like it, you do not have to read it. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Our relationship is complicated. One minute I want to shag you senseless into the carpet or bed or whatever surface we happened to find. The next, I want to strangle you and rip your heart out. I love you. I don't know why. It's DEFINITELY not natural, but I can't help it. Unfortunately, everything about you makes my skin crawl, and I have to work to suppress the urge to punch your face in every time I see you in the hall.

I'm still not sure how it happened, but I think it had something to do with too much alcohol and not enough inhibition. Regardless, the night ended in horrifyingly angry—yet insanely amazing—sex. I still don't know what possessed either of us to agree to it, but we did. I still have dreams about that night…and every night since. I'm not sure if we get together out of spite or if there is actually a connection we are just refusing to acknowledge.

Initially, we didn't want anyone to know what we were doing. I guess now, we either don't care or want our friends to know. I know Weasel, Finnegan, and Thomas have complained to you. Don't worry. Blaise, Theo, and Goyle hate me, too. More than once, we've kept them up because we were so focused on our task at hand that we forgot to put up a silencing charm. I remember once, when Weasel tried to interrupt, you almost blew his bits off. It made me laugh.

"Dear Merlin, Malfoy. You're so fucking tight."

"Stop talking and fuck me."

That night, you rammed into me so hard, I could barely sit for a week. I couldn't walk comfortably for three days. But, it was the most amazing shag I'd ever had. Two weeks later, it happened again, except in reverse. I could see you wince in pain every step you took the next day. You're welcome.

Since then, anytime we feel like hexing each other into oblivion, we simply meet in one of our dormitories or in an abandoned classroom and screw around until neither of us can support our own weight and our lungs are on fire. It's nice…sorta. The scary thing is that I might be falling in love with you, but I don't think it's you. Specifically, I think I'm falling in love with your cock. I still hate you and everything that you stand for. And I still want to beat the living shit out of you every time I see your horrendous hair and eerily stunning eyes. It's just instinct now.

One thing I'm still trying to figure out is why we seem to have this disgusting connection. It doesn't make any sense to me. Why do we continue to meet up with each other? Why haven't we tried hooking up with other people? People we actually like. Maybe that's what makes the sex so good—the sheer hatred we have for each other. It pushes us past a point of caring about hurting the other. In fact, we generally try to injure each other during the night. If there isn't blood on the floor and on us, then we didn't fuck hard enough.

Do you remember a couple months ago? You ran into me in the hall as you were rushing to a class. That night, I actually did punch you. Then you punched back, so I kicked you. It brought you to your knees but only long enough for you to throw a punch at my crotch. Once we were on the same level, we stuck to face punches. Those led to our foreheads being pressed together in exhaustion, which led to a kiss—with intense lip-biting—which led to one of our angriest round of sex on the floor of an old Potions classroom. I think you secretly took a little too much joy in the fact that we were doing it in Snape's old room, right next to his office.

That nigh was quite possibly the most amazing sex I'd ever had. I don't know about you, but by the time we had to leave for class, my legs still felt like jelly. We haven't had a session like that since. I ran into you again today, hoping it would make you look at me. You've been completely ignoring me since that night. I don't know why. It's a little frustrating. I want to punch you, and you don't seem the least bit interested in fighting back. You keep your head down and don't talk to anyone except Granger, the Weasel, and occasionally the Weaslette.

I think your complete disregard for my presence makes me both highly depressed and volatilely furious with you. What gives you the right to ignore me like that? I'm the Ice Prince. You should be honored to be in my presence, much less my fuck buddy. Anyone in this school would kill to be in your position. You are a complete arse, Harry James Potter. I hate you and everything you stand for. I just wish you'd fucking look at me and acknowledge my existence. I kinda wish that you would tell me that everything we were doing meant something, while simultaneously hoping it meant nothing.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy, I'm tired. I don't want to fight today. Sorry," you apologized as you turned to leave.

That should have been my first clue that something was up. You never apologize to me for anything. Ever. Everything is always my fault. It's never your responsibility. You never apologize, especially not to me.

"Fucking look at me!" I screamed as I grabbed your arm and spun you around—causing you to promptly vomit all over my shoes. "What the fuck, Potter? These are brand new, you piece of shit. What is your problem?"

"Sorry. I have to go. Bye, Draco."

That red flagged. You've never called me by my given name. Not even in the midst of a climax. I should have followed you to wherever you went, but I guess I didn't really care at that point. I was still pissed at you for hurling all over my brand new, Italian leather and snake-skin shoes. I was planning how to make you pay for that.

"Malfoy! What did you do to Harry?" asked a fuming Granger.

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything. He's the little shit that puked all over me."

"Bastard!" she screamed as she hit me square in the chin with a strangely powerful right hook.

After that, she ran back in the direction from which she came. This time, I decided it might be worthwhile to follow her. I assumed she was running back to you. What I didn't realize is that she was heading straight for the hospital wing with—what I assumed to be—a terrified look on her face. She burst through the doors with me close behind, whether she was aware of that or not I still don't know.

What I saw when I entered the room made me want to run back out. I wasn't expecting to see you as broken as you seemed. What had I done? Had I really hurt you that bad? I hadn't meant to. You didn't seem to mind at the time. What happened?

"Potter? What happened to you?"

"Like you give a shit, Malfoy!" spat Weasley, earning a non-amused glare from me.

"It's nothing. Please go away," you whispered.

Suddenly something inside me snapped, and I couldn't be angry with you anymore. Not knowing that whatever had happened was my fault. I couldn't leave you. I was tied to you. I was in love with you. I wanted to be there. I wanted to make sure you were okay—which you clearly weren't, by the way. It was my fault.

As I turned to leave, I grabbed Granger by the arm to follow me. I wanted to know what had happened. I **needed** to know. It was my fault, and I couldn't shake that. I'm sorry for everything I'd done. I really didn't think it would hurt you this bad. I hope you can forgive me, eventually.

"What happened?" I asked, receiving a skeptical eye from her.

"I don't know. All I know is that after the last time you did whatever it was that you did—I don't want to know the details—he's been different. Madame Pomfrey can't find anything physically wrong with him. He's just given up. He's shutting his body down somehow, and we can't stop it."

"Shutting his body down? What does that even mean?"

"It means, whatever you did to him was enough to push him into a self-imploding psychotic break. He won't eat. He rarely sleeps. He won't even talk to us about it anymore. I don't know, nor do I care, what has happened between you in the past. You need to fix this," she stated flatly as she moved to return to your side. "Soon, Malfoy!" she added before she disappeared behind the massive wooden doors.

The next day, I went to see you while your bodyguards were in class. I wanted to talk to you alone. Without their judgmental eyes and disapproving sighs. I needed to find out how to fix you. It was my fault that you were here in the first place. It was my responsibility to make sure that you were back to you.

"Harry?" I asked. _Wow! That feels weird…_

"Please go away, Draco. I don't feel like talking."

"Then just listen. Please?" _Since when did I start using manners with you? Focus, Draco!_

"Fine," you sighed, breaking my heart just a little bit more.

"I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please believe me. I didn't think this would ever happen. I don't even know what's going on with you. I know you don't feel like talking right now, and that's fine. I'll wait here until you're ready. I'm not going to leave you alone."

"Since when do you give a flying fuck about me? We're fuck buddies and angry ones at that. Why are you even here, Draco?"

"I don't know. I just feel responsible for you. I can't stop it, and I can't change it so I might as well embrace it. Please tell me what happened."

"It wasn't you. I know Ron and Hermione seem to think differently, but it really wasn't your fault. The only way that you're even involved is that it happened around the time we last got together. I'm sorry you got roped into this."

"What happened? Please, Harry. Please tell me," I pleaded—or begged depending on who you ask.

"I can't. I'm sorry Draco, but I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what caused it. Something inside me just snapped. It was like a wall I wasn't even aware that I had built crumbled to the ground. And with it came memories I'd long since suppressed. This has nothing to do with you. This is all me."

"Why are you shutting down? I want to help you."

"I know. The power of these memories is deadly. I'm not intentionally shutting down; it's just happening. I don't know how to stop it, Draco."

"What memories came through?"

"Memories of my childhood, my parent's murder, my own incompetence. Everything I'd tried to ignore came back simultaneously," you stated.

Your eyelids were starting to droop, so I decided to leave the rest of my questions for another day. As I sat in the chair next to your bed, you reached out for my hand. It was then that I realized that we'd never had something this tender before in our relationship—if you could even call it that. It was nice.

I spent the night with you. I somehow eventually ended up behind you with your head resting on my chest and my arms wrapped around your waist. Your fingers were intertwined with mine, and it felt right. So, I held you and refused to let go—even when your bodyguards returned. I knew that we'd started our relationship out of what we thought was hate. But, looking back it may have been passion instead. Whatever you want to call it, our relationship changed that night.

We never did find a way to fix you. A way to stop your body from shutting down. It killed me to watch you deteriorate into nothing, but according to Madame Pomfrey, you shouldn't have lasted as long as you did. That was almost a year ago. After a year of angry sex and almost six months of gentle touches and loving words, you finally let go. I never truly hated you, you know. I guess I just didn't quite completely like you either.

Our relationship is complicated. I still feel you sometimes. I miss you every day. I've even grown to like Granger as a friend and have learned to tolerate the Weasley clan—much to my father's dismay, I might add. I know you did everything you could to stop the memories from killing you, but they were just too much. I just want you to know that I don't blame you for anything. You are free.

I love you, Harry James Potter. Goodbye, my brave Lion.

Love always,

Your Dragon

**A/N**: Thank you so, so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this! Please leave me a review or PM letting me know what you thought or any song suggestions for future fics! Again, a big shout out to **Futaira** for the song. Thanks again for reading! Have a MARVELOUS day!  
~DrarryLover28


End file.
